


Upon Concluded Lives

by middlemarch



Category: Foyle's War, Home Fires (UK TV)
Genre: Aunt-Niece Relationship, Female Friendship, Gen, Letters, Sisters, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-10-16 02:17:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10561736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/middlemarch/pseuds/middlemarch
Summary: She found she missed so much more when Adam was away.





	

There was a letter from Sam in the post and it was like a message from another universe; she and Adam had sometimes had entertaining discussions about the likelihood of multiple worlds and the possibility of travel among myriad spheres over their brandy snifters on cold winter nights when it seemed like midnight by five o’clock and Sarah could easily believe Sam’s letter had originated in another cosmos altogether and not three miles outside Hastings. Sarah was very fond of Adam’s niece though Sam had not spent much time with them in Great Paxford, just the summer when she was fourteen and the odd holiday, but she was an inveterate, effusive letter-writer and Sarah and Frances had laughed merrily over the missives, full of Sam’s earnest and whimsical observations about life in her own parish, her yearning to explore the “great, wide, wonderful world, even if I’ve only a bicycle to do it with—it would be verily heaven on earth for me, Aunt Sarah,” her penchant for italics and liberal use of exclamation points. There was also her tendency to misspell at least three words per page, which reflected either the caliber of her school or more likely, her sheer impetuous desire to get to the end of the sentence. Sarah and Adam had argued, gently enough, over Sarah’s plan to send Sam an Underwood Portable typewriter for her sixteenth birthday with Adam finally winning the day, pointing out the possible injury to his sister’s pride and eardrums, and Sam continued to send hand-written letters using the Mabie Todd Swan Leverless fountain pen Sarah had sent in place of the typewriter. The thank you note had been priceless and Frances had laughed until she had tears in her eyes when Sarah read it aloud over tea.

The most recent letter was full of Sam’s regular rhapsodies but something else that set it apart, the whiff of grease and motor oil the perfume of Sam’s War Sarah supposed and the inevitable alteration of Sam becoming an adult, if not Samantha. There was still a request for another pot of blackberry preserves “if you can spare it, I’m sure the others here will appreciate it as much as I did” and a scathing review of _And Then There Were None_ with Sam’s traditional refrain on Mrs. Christie “she cheats—every time! I can’t help longing for real detective work, though I know I shall never get the chance.” There was the carefully articulated confession about another longing, for “someone of my own, all my own, but it seems terribly risky to fall in love these days, though I suppose you haven’t really got a choice about it if it does happen” coupled with an emerging confidence in her abilities “the second best time in dealing with a tricky engine.” Sam asked more questions and asked them more skillfully and she complained far less about her parents. The letter didn’t make Sarah laugh, though this time Sam had intended her to, as she never had before, and Sarah found she was less inclined to share it. Perhaps she would have with Adam, if he had been there, but he wasn’t and something told her not to read it to Frances. She had never thought twice about letting Frances read the letters before but that was when they were written by a child, not another woman, a friend. 

Sarah settled down at the desk with a cup of milky tea, lemon a luxury she was trying to get used to missing, and let herself miss Adam and consider Squadron Leader Lucas, “Nick, Nicholas but only my Aunt Elspeth calls me that,” imagine Sam in her overall, grease all over her hands, under her nails, and likely smeared across the bridge of her nose. She picked up her pen and started to write,

“Darling Sam, How glad I was to receive your letter and of course you may expect a pot of what you used to call ‘bramble-jam’ along with a few other local delicacies as we, I can’t expect you for an holiday any time soon. You have written so truthfully of how it goes with you that even though I am still your old aunt, I feel I owe you only honesty in return—it’s hard, it’s very hard for me and I fear it will be harder still in days to come…”

**Author's Note:**

> It just felt like these two series were calling out for a cross-over and it occurred to me there was a vicar to be one of Sam's many uncles, so...
> 
> I hope my period references are accurate. The title is from Emily Dickinson.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Of Love and Friendship](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11082609) by [MissWoodhouse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissWoodhouse/pseuds/MissWoodhouse)




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